


(Going Back) The Way I Came

by poisontaster



Series: Every Broken Thing [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e21 Salvation, Ficlet, Gen, Sam Winchester's Visions, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-03
Updated: 2006-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to be your own man.  But not all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Going Back) The Way I Came

"Dean?"

"Yeah man, what's up?"

"Can you…can you come get me?"

 

 

Sam's _plan_ was to get back to the motel the way he'd come; on his own two feet.

That plan sort of went out the window when he took a step of the curb and then just kind of kept on falling. His butt hit the pavement hard, driving the breath out of him and sending red hot spikes of pain through his already aching head.

It's enough that he didn't try to get up right away, blinking stupidly at a gum wrapper in the gutter. Sam _hurts_ , an understatement of pain that goes far beyond his collection of physical aches.

The aftermath of a vision always leaves him wobbly and naked under his skin like a protective layer's been shredded away leaving only pink and sensitive flesh. To say that he hates this is something of an understatement. The pain—like lightning bolts ground directly into the nerve centers of his brain, following by lingering ache for hours beyond—the sense of desperation, the horror they reveal to him…those are all one thing. But this sense of helplessness, of neediness that comes to him afterwards is almost the worst part.

It wasn't easy growing up with two role models like Dad and Dean. They both take up so much space in a room; not only physically, but with their entire self, seeming to take up more space than they actually do. Sometimes Sam felt like he'd suffocate under the weight of just standing in one place and doing his own thing. Of the many and myriad reasons he'd left was just the need to assert himself as his own person and his own man. Not one of John Winchester's boys. Not as SamandDean. But just…Sam.

Maybe there'd been another way to do that, or be that. If he'd been more like his father and brother. But he wasn't like them—not entirely—and the only way he'd known how to do what needed to be done was to leave.

And now this. Being back and…and not hating it. Not hating Dad—even if he didn't always agree with him. Not hating Dean—not that he ever really had. Finding that he _did_ have a place that he fit in the family; a place that was exactly his size and shape. It's…unexpected.

But the visions…they made him feel less than himself, as if, for everything they gave—and he still isn't quite sure what that is—they take some little bit of himself with them. Some tiny chunk of the independence he'd fought so hard for.

Sam tries to get up again, but his legs aren't having any of it. His stomach has also gotten in the game, swirling queasily and quickly convincing him that standing isn't all it's cracked up to be. Swallowing through a lump that may very well be his pride, Sam picks up his phone and thumbs the speed dial for Dean.

 

 

"Dean?"

"Yeah man, what's up?"

"Can you…can you come get me?"

There isn't even a beat. "Yeah, tell me where you are; I'm on my way."

Sam puts his head down on his knees and pretends he doesn't feel grateful.


End file.
